Our histories words all but lost
like tender garden yield to frost
so fallow, feign your fettered fear
that surer stalks can pierce the air.
Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 12:47 PM UTC
Our histories words all but lost
like tender garden yield to frost
so fallow, feign your fettered fear
that surer stalks can pierce the air.
Stand and present
Request permission to use this poem